


Untold Stories of A Basket Case

by SummerKnightinggale



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, F/M, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Original Universe, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-11
Updated: 2014-11-12
Packaged: 2018-02-20 16:58:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2436128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SummerKnightinggale/pseuds/SummerKnightinggale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She goes back to writing notes on her chalkboard. I zero in on the action and slow down time around me as I watch what happens. I hear the gentle thuds and squeaks as she drags the chalk across the greenish black board and observe fragments of dust falling softly to the ground. I wonder what it would feel like to be ground into tiny fragments and left to freefall to my extended death as children gleefully wait for today’s lesson to be written in my bloo-Perhaps I’m thinking too much about the dust’s feelings? Yeah, I totally am. I need to calm the fuck down. Chill Ash. Chill.</p>
<p>And so entails the story of Ashton Marie, your average teenager with a knack for over explanation and no sanity to show for it. Over her story, you find out that maybe life really is as terrible as it can seem- And it tends to throw you a curveball and the wrong time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Setting the Scene of Circumstance

**Author's Note:**

> I don't actually think anyone is going to read this, but if you are reading THIS right now...Thank you! I've worked really hard on this story so far and I really truly hope yall enjoy it!

October 9, 2014  
Set the scene: one 9 year old girl is in kitchen with her mother, located stage left.  
Girl is getting ready for her first day of third grade at a new school. Girl is excited, but mother feels ill.  
Mother walks down stage to the refrigerator to get some orange juice and collapses, unresponsive.  
Girl stands up. Girl asks what is wrong. Girl begs her mother to answer her.  
Girl screams.  
Girl sobs.  
Girl calls 911.  
Paramedics arrive and take care of mother. Mother is sped off to the hospital while a police officer places Girl in the back seat of his cruiser and takes her to the hospital.

Girl spends her first day of third grade at a different school altogether and learns the most important lesson of her life: 

The Universe owes you nothing. 

And so the girl continued with this lesson in her for the entirety of her life. 

I am Girl. My name is Ashton Marie, and the universe owed me nothing.


	2. Honey! I've Been Stabbed Emotionally!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> blah blah blah Ashton Marie is nervous and anxious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't imagine why yall would read this story. But thank you? You seven people who read my prologue? Thank you???

October 12, 2014  
First Day of School  
I think a lot about my personality can be inferred from what I said to introduce myself to my 3rd period Science class on the first day of school. Our teacher insisted we state our name and age. Simple enough, right? You can tell a great deal about the level of academics your school puts forth by the age of those in their junior year; for example, if you have a 19 year old in your class, you’re probably going to do just fine here.

The chain of bored students snaked around until it got to me near the end. Oh Jesus, I have to speak in front of people. Name, age. You got this Ash. 

“Hi, my name is 17 and I’m Ashton.” Oh no. 

Enter smart ass students and unfocused teacher. “Everyone, say hello to 17."

God damn it public schooling and anxiety, now I’m going to 17 forever. 

“Hi 17!” They all start laughing under their breaths. Quietly, so the teacher won’t notice, but just loud enough that I hear it and it starts bouncing around in my head, banging off the edges of my skull in to my subconscious. The giggling curls up under the edges of my mind and takes root somewhere strange and untouched since the last time I panicked. I can't on the first day of school! I can't, I couldn't possibly, I don't-I don't- I d-d-d-

I can physically feel the taunting coming up along with the breakfast I spent so long to prepare perfectly so it would be just right. 3 ounces of yogurt, 3 teaspoons of strawberry jam, 12 ounces of orange juice and 1/3 of a pint of milk. A row of threes, lined up all in a row perfectly as can be. 123. 123. 456. Seveneightnine. 9. 9. 9. Three sets of three, perfect. I am sitting in the middle of the class, third row from the front and three over from the left. Three. Three. Threethreethreethree threethreethreethreethreethreethreethreethreethreethree STOP! 

Calm down. Breathe. Look at your desk. Count by fives to a hundred. Avoid 30, 60,and 90. Quiet. Calm. Silence.

I let the buzzing, the ringing in my ears subside as I attempt to calm myself down. I can’t give myself a panic attack on day 1. Last year, I made it 12 days into the school semester without flipping out. Let’s go for 13! Always strive to be better, right? Right. 

The bell rings, and this time I’m not just imagining it. What time is it? Time for lunch! Yeeeeeees. Sleep time in the cafeteria and coffee during 4th period, please. Existing is hard. Not falling asleep during a science class I don’t need to take at all is even harder. 

This is the part of my internal monologue when I would probably start talking about boys and/or girls that I find attractive, or that I am desperately in love with. At this point, I might have even bumped into my future lover on the way to a meeting about my feelings! Unfortunately for those listening to my internal dialogue, I’m not like most girls. I’m so different! Real talk, I just don’t think it’s that important. Maybe I’ll stumble across someone later. Who knows? I may hate everything for right now, but I do know I have a long life ahead of me with plenty of time to look for The One. Does that even exist? The One? More things to ponder in this internal dialogue of mine. 

The cafeteria is extremely loud and is the average cafeteria. What do you expect? For me to be so super naturally beautiful that a hush falls over the crowd, and every stares in amazement as I glide across the floor to a table next to a window on a bright and sun-shiney day?

Well, I hate to break the first bit of bad news to you- It’s overcast today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ashton, why are you dumb dumb? Why you not to shut up? WHY ASHTON???


	3. I am the Night!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> more blahs and a walk home on a crisp afternoon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter does have a bit of graphic language and descriptions.
> 
> Thnka u 4 readin this hot mess, all 23 of u. i luv u xoxox

October 12, 2014  
-Later-  
The walk home from school was most definitely the best part of my day. The quiet breeze and the whispering of the wind in the trees lulled me in a serene state. I had never quite calmed down from my anxiety attack earlier, but walking helped me to recharge my batteries and chill out. The only down side is that I live right next to a highway, so I have to listen to the cars zipping past without a care in the world-As if they are the only ones on Earth.

Isn't it funny how insignificant we really are compared to what we think of ourselves? Humans go about not giving a care in the world to what is happening outside our little bubble. We are such a selfish mistake of creation! We were given a world full of life and happiness and flowers, and what do we do with it? Go to war with each other. We deny basic rights to one another simply because we don't like them. We cry and lament about a world so full of sadness and then for what? We go on making sad. Maybe the annihilation of the human race is just what nature needs. Maybe I should start with myself! There's so many cars going by and I doubt anyone would miss me. I have to cross up ahead at the light. I can make it look like an accident! Just jaywalk in front of a big car and BOOM. "High school Junior killed in tragic hit-and-run."  
"She will (not) be missed."

"She wa-" 

I should probably stop this train of thought before I do something bad.

I finally turn left down the last street separating me and sweet, sweet after school snacks. I'm at least 99.999% sure we have Gushers in the back of the pantry and I am all about that shit. Just a few houses down. Just a few to go. Almost there. Oh Gushers, shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Moist. 

"Hey yo sweet girl! Can I get a smile?!" Oh no.

"Cmon, just a little smile!" Jesus Christ, not for you.

"Aw baby don't be so serious!" God damn Toby Mackinall and company. What a riot. I'm laughing on the inside. Really. I am. 

Hands farther down in your jeans, head down, look at the ground. Zip up your jacket and roll down your sleeves. Stay quiet, stay small, and what ever you do, DON'T give them eye contact. 

I somehow manage to get by him and his peanut gallery without being attacked and get away with just a few comments about how my "ass looks great with those jeans baby, but imagine how it'd look on (his) face!" Not today Satan. 

Men are pigs. 

But no longer do I have to listen to teenagers! No! I refuse! I must locate these Gushers and consume them whole. I must feel them running and gushing in my mouth as I pulverize them and make then no longer! I will break them and make them declare ME as ruler of the sovereign universe; the almighty Ashton Marie Lansinger! 

"I am Ash Mar and I will DEVOUR the gushed fruit! All fruit snacks should fear me!" 

"... Ashton sweetie? Is- is that you?" 

I freeze where I am and feel the heat rising up my face. I guess my Grandmaw got home from her doctor's appointment early. 

"Um...Yeah?"

"Did you just get back from school?"

No, Grandmaw. I skipped school on the first day in order to snort crack and shoot up under that bridge with my friends that you think are "trouble". I am currently tripping balls right now on acid, because mixing drugs is a good idea. Why is the ceiling talking to me? I don't know. It looks like a dragon is guarding my Gushers from me, damn. No more drugs for me, especially after you DROPPED ME OFF IN THE FRONT OFFICE THIS MORNING. 

"Yeah?"

"How was it?"

"It was school?"

"What does THAT mean?"

"I learned so much. So much. I have the knowledge," I feel the need to throw in the stupid comment because in case you haven't picked up from my internal dialogue, I am a complete idiot. 

"October 19th is in a week."

"I know." 

See, here in Louisiana, we have weird semesters. My school schedule is extra jacked up because I have to start school on the same day every year- October 12th. It's a multiple of three, in the tenth month, and exactly one week before the anniversary of my mom's death. It's perfect. I love it. Threthreethree. Nine. Hahahahahaha! A jest with death. Or perhaps a joust to the death? I'm getting distracted again. 

"Do you want to go into the planning room to write out our schedule?" Oh, Grandmaw is awesome. She knows me so well. 

"Yes!" 

Our house is planned a little bit like a castle. It's 5 stories, and every story has a different purpose. The first level is what would have been used by the servants, back when the house was first built in 1897. It has a grand, sweeping staircase with a giant chandelier glittering at the front entrance; hidden behind and slightly under this staircase is a door leading to the kitchen, the pantry, the store room, a hatch the the cellar, and a small room where the butler would have stayed during the day. 

The second floor has the most fun places. That's where our parlor, game room, theater room and small dance hall are located. This house was definitely intended for entertaining, and entertain it did. We converted the dance hall when I was five into a fully stocked candy bar and ice cream shop. I know every possible combination of  
treats that you can make with our supplies, from malts to shakes to ice cream cakes.

The third floor is where our guest rooms are. We have 5 of them! All of them have access to a full bathroom and are separate from eachother. Because I was allowed to decorate the rooms, they each have a different color theme. Black and white, pink and red, orange and yellow, green and purple, and one flawlessly white room. 

The fourth floor has two rooms: Mine and Grandmaw's. I have no idea what Grandmaw's room looks like, and I don't really question it. I don't have any reason to go in there and all that jazz. My room is pretty awesome- I have this huge king sized pillow top bed with a bright blue quilt that is warm and soft and amazing. My entire room is done in shades of blue and creme. It kind of is like a princess room, keeping in touch with the castle theme through out the house. I have this ENORMOUS Bay window with an extended seat so I can lay down on it if I want to and look at the stars when I can't sleep. 

But the best room, by far, is the fifth floor. That because it's MY room- not the one I sleep in, but the one I live in. There is a complete wall of mirrors, and on them I write notes and plans using dry erase marker. I have a giant balcony that I can go out on with 3 different telescopes I've gotten over the years to look to the skies in depth. I have an organized half of a closet dedicated to art supplies for therapy, and a piano in the east corner. I can be who ever I want to when I'm up there- Above the world, away from anyone who would hurt me. I act and play to escape reality,and sometimes my dreams feel so real, I hate to leave to go downstairs. Some days I'm a fairy who never knew she had powers until she was kidnapped by evil sorcerers. Other days I'm a super hero who can save people using only my mind to heal all wounds. Most days, though, I act out all the different ways I think I could die. I could be shot while on my way to school, and people would gather around and think- "She's so beautiful, too beautiful to be gone." I could be poisoned! I would walk up to deliver a speech and suddenly stop, sway, CRASH. Dead. I could have cancer or commit suicide or be kidnapped and killed or be taken in by drug overlords and stabbed in the throat. 

That's what frustrates me the most, I think. I can only die once. What would it feel like to drown? To fall off a building? To be bashed in the head with a lead pipe? 

That's why everything has to be perfect. My entire life. If you seem happy and bouncy and full of life, no one sees it coming. It's like a sharp jab to the face. 

"Ashton committed suicide last night."

I want them to not believe the news.

"Ashton? No. Not Ashton! She was so happy! So bubbly! She was the cutest thing you ever did see..."

I want them to obsess over it. 

"Why would she do this? Why would she feel so hopeless... so sad..." 

(I'm not sad, silly! I'm empty. Maybe dying will help me feel something.)

I want them to lament and say how much they loved me; but not because I'm dead. Loving someone because they are gone is fake. I want them to love me because I was finally lovable. 

"She was so kind and smart and wonderful... Why is she gone? We loved her so much! Do you hear us, Ashton? We love you! Present tense! WE! LOVE! YOU!" 

I want them to move on and live their lives...

"What's that wedding we have to go to, honey?"

...But I want them to never forget me. 

"On October 21? That's the day Ashton died. What a pity..."

Up in my room is the only place I can feel safe and still want to cease existing. I can be what ever I want to be and know that no one will judge me. This is probably a bad time to over think my internal dialogue, but I have set a date. November 21. There are so many ways to go out... 

Now if you need me, I'll be in My Room, pondering all the possibilities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone was wondering, the point of this story is to address the things in society and life that I, as the author, feel need to be addressed. There will be rape in this work. There will assault. There will be death and sex and depression and horribly twisted things. This is MY outlet for negative feelings. This is my way to heal myself and let go of the shitty things I had to go through to get to where I am now. A lot of who Ashton Marie is comes from myself and how I see myself- completely unlovable, twisted, broken, and battered. There are parallels between Ashton's life and mine. It's up to you, as the reader, to decide if that is a bold face lie or not... Hon hon good luck


	4. Chalk it up to ADD

October 13, 2014  
Before School  
I woke up on Tuesday morning with a splitting headache and the taste of cotton balls soaked in disappointment leaping of my tongue. Drinking on the first day of school isn't what I planned on doing, but when that vodka and grenadine start calling my name around 1 in the morning, who am I to resist? It's not like anything would happen to me anyway.

What's the worst it could do, kill me?

My back is aching from sleeping on the hardwood floor in My Room again. It's funny, even though I drink and do all bad things in my room, it's like something pushes me away and draws me to My Room. Maybe my bedroom is haunted? I know! There is a portal to hell in my room that Satan has used to watch me over the years as I grew up. He found my endearing and can't bear to see me be sucked into hell, so he pushes me out and into My Room every night!

Oh Jesus Christ I am a fucking weirdo. 

Grandmaw, with her impeccable timing, comes gliding into My Room with a box of chalk in hand. Time to plan out the day! I love planning the days out, perfectly. 123 all in a row. 

She walks over to our wall of mirrors and pulls out a sliding panel with a chalkboard and cork to attach *memos* to. Grandmaw then begins the long process of writing out every moment of my day. 

"Right now it is-" She glances at her watch- "6:04. You have until 6:20 to get dressed. Then you have time to do your makeup and take care of anything you need to do until 6:45, at which time we will have breakfast. At 6:55 you will leave for the bus stop, and your bus gets there around 7:03. Class starts at 7:35..." She continues rambling on as she writes all this out on the chalkboard. I zero in on the action and slow down time around me as I watch what happens. I hear the gentle thuds and squeaks as she drags the chalk across the greenish black board and observe fragments of dust falling softly to the ground. I wonder what it would feel like to be ground into tiny fragments and left to freefall to my extended death as children gleefully wait for today’s lesson to be written in my bloo-Perhaps I’m thinking too much about the dust’s feelings? Yeah, I totally am. I need to calm the fuck down. Chill Ash. Chill.

Some thing tells me today is going to be a very long day, indeed.


	5. Do I look like I care?

October 15, 2014  
Evening

I didn't write the last couple of days. I was too scared to. 

Everyday, those boys next threaten me and it terrifies me; the things they said a few days ago after school. October 19th is coming closer and closer and closer- I'm failing calculus, I'm sure of that- Grandmaw is getting on me about being so ANGRY all the time-

Doesn't she get that I can't help it? 

I don't WANT to lash out. I don't WANT to be rude. I don't want to slam doors or ignore her or all manner of things- it's like she thinks I'm doing this on purpose. I'm not! I want to hold a pleasant conversation with her. I want to really FEEL the autumn air.I want to find joy in little things without guessing at how I should feel. I love people so much. I have such a capacity to feel and love and emote and it's frustrating that I can't. No matter how much I try to explain it, no matter how many times I scream to the entire universe of hearing-abled people, "I WANT TO DIE RIGHT NOW!", no one listens. It feels like this black fog has descended over my life. I like being outside and feeling the sun, but I don't want to move from My Room. My Room makes me feel safe. My Room is a place where I can save hundreds of people from the grips of evils pixies, or maybe pretend to be a world famous performer. I don't have to be depressed. I want to cry for help. I'm trying! I'm trying! Can't you see I'm trying? I have a god damn SMILE on my face every time I'm around you people! Is that not enough? Fine. I'll be funny! I'll be hilarious! I'll be wild and outspoken and brazen and friendly and make everyone LOVE me, for fuck's sake!

That's what I will do. No one thinks the crazy girl is CRAZY, right? She acts like she's on drugs because she doesn't want you to know. She is so smart. SO smart. And so under-appreciated; and so unlovable. She is life in the light, but by the setting sun, she is dead inside. 

Something felt wrong about today, and not in a dying way. Just in a... strange way?

Why do I feel like something bad is going to happen?


	6. Crazy is as Crazy Does

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Long time, no angsty Ashton Marie. Sorry bout that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm SO sorry that it has taken me a while to update for those of you messing me on FB and stuff asking about it... Been dealing with family stuff + school + working 2 jobs and it is NUTS. Sorry! Sorry! Sorry! I changed the format as well, and the good (???) (Okay, interesting) stuff is coming up! For now... simple fillers. :D

November 12, Night

Remember that bad thing I thought was going to happen? Well, it did... I think. Grandma thinks I'm too sad to function, and worries about me ACTUALLY seeing people... so she told me no writing, no reading, no afternoons alone in My Room, none of it until I made friends. I did! ME! Ashton make a fun!

Well, I made one friend. Emily. She's super fucking hyper, but damn is she amazing. She never slows down, not for one minute, and is always hopping around gogogogogo. She's basically a free spirit, so good luck trying to control her. She's smart. She's funny. She's gorgeous. She's curvy and sweet. Everyone loves her. She says the weirdest things, too; just randomly compliments people and gives advice. 

"Never stop loving. NEVER! There are too many people in the world without an inch of humanity- Don't let your beautiful soul be ruined by terrible means such as not loving." That's the first meaningful thing she said to me. I might have a bit of a girl crush on her, jesus. 

She even invited me to a party! 

Yay social interaction. I'm so fucking popular. Maybe the bad thing hasn't happened yet? Shit. That means it's happening soon.


End file.
